


1. Truth or Dare

by hermette, sunsetmog



Series: Drinking Games [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermette/pseuds/hermette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it was just Brendon and Spencer in the lounge on the bus, half a bottle of tequila to go between them, and half a stack of cards.</p><p>The next card said <i>make out with the person sitting next to you for thirty seconds.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly fic, but a little not ficcy at the beginning. This was co-written and is unbetaed and lifted straight from emails.

How about Spencer has this thing that he jerks off about every now and again, and he's never told anyone, not ever. He's never told anyone about how sometimes he thinks about someone sitting on his lap and peeing, and he gets hard thinking about it and jerking off.

And then there's late night extremely drunken Truth or Dare, and everyone's passed out but him and Brendon, and he ends up revealing all to Brendon.

has this been a particularly sexy game of truth or dare? Maybe he and Brendon have already made out tonight? :D?

Maybe it started out really lame, because it was Brendon and Spencer and Ian and Dallon and Zack, and it was stupid stuff like "nearest you've ever got to being caught having sex" and "have you ever been caught jerking off". It was a set of cards someone had given them at a meet and greet, and it started off easy and got more risqué. Ian bowed out after it came to the point where he had to admit what the dirtiest thing he'd ever done to a girl was, and Dallon bowed out soon after, because having to choose between detailing going down on his wife or kissing Brendon was only going to end badly. Zack, when faced with the choice of getting naked or going to bed, chose bed. So it was just Brendon and Spencer in the lounge on the bus, half a bottle of tequila to go between them, and half a stack of cards.

The next card said _make out with the person sitting next to you for thirty seconds._

And it's certainly not like Brendon and Spencer haven't ever made out with one another before, but not in a while, and Brendon goes a little hot when he flips the card over and reads it. He's had like...a lot of beer, which is probably contributing to the fact that he's suddenly sweating.

"Uh," he says, holding the card out to Spencer.

"Awesome," Spencer says, who has never made a secret of the fact that he thinks making out is the best thing ever.

Brendon has never made a secret of the fact he likes kissing, either, but he seems kind of red-faced about kissing Spencer, which Spencer thinks he might be too drunk to figure out right now. They've done it before, right? No reason to be weird about it. He beckons Brendon closer.

Brendon makes a weird, muppety sort of face, but he shuffles over to Spencer, dropping the card to the floor in the process.

"I'll set the timer on my phone," Brendon says, but Spencer just shakes his head.

"I can count," he says. "Like. With my brain."

Brendon flushes. He must be drunker than Spencer thought.

"Come here," he says, and straightens his legs so that Brendon can kneel over him. Sitting on the floor makes everything easier, making out included.

"Are you sure you don't need me to set the alarm?" Brendon says.

"Sure as sure is sure as houses," Spencer says, nonsensically. Brendon makes a face.

"You're such a dumbass."

"Come over here and make out with me," Spencer says. He pats his lap, and when Brendon straddles him, Spencer anchors him with hands to his hips. "Ready?"

"You don't have to make it sound like we're going into battle or something," Brendon says, but he's brushing Spencer's hair off his forehead and leaning closer and Spencer doesn't really care about anything in this moment except for the way Brendon is heavy and warm in his lap. He's a little drunk and a little high and even though he's two days away from a proper shower, he's feeling pretty excellent.

"'kay," Spencer says. He slides a hand up Brendon's back and pulls him down for kissing.

Kissing is awesome, and Spencer has always liked making out with Brendon, even when they were kids, and make outs were kind of awkward and involved too much tongue. They've both gotten better since then, and Spencer likes that he can chart their awesomeness on a scale of make outs. It's pretty cool.

In fact, it's so cool he totally forgets to count, so when Brendon pulls away, flushed and with red lips, Spencer forgets to look at anything but Brendon's mouth.

"That's way over thirty seconds," Brendon says, a little awkwardly.

"No it wasn't," Spencer lies. "It just seemed longer because of how awesome it was."

Brendon rolls his eyes, and Spencer thinks he might have moved away, apart from Spencer's hand to his hip.

"Next card," Spencer says, to take Brendon's mind off the fact that Spencer clearly was a dumbass who forgot to count. What, making out is awesome, shut up.

"Truth or dare?" Brendon asks.

"Truth," Spencer says, in satisfaction. Dare might mean Brendon has to move, and Spencer likes him here, on his lap.

"Tell the person sitting opposite you if you've ever secretly had a crush on them," Brendon reads, slowly. He goes slowly red.

 _Ah_ , Spencer thinks. "Um, yeah?" he says.

"What, really?" Brendon stammers.

"Uh, yeah," Spencer says, and suddenly he's just as red as Brendon is, which is unexpected. Brendon's sitting in his lap, which is kind of weird, especially when he's revealing that he might have once had a crush on him. "You're kind of --" he waggles his hand, which is supposed to mean, _hot_. "You've got that thing."

"Okay," Brendon says. "Do you want more tequila?"

"Yes," Spencer says immediately, even though neither of them have forfeited. Drink seems suddenly amazing. And necessary.

"Right," Brendon says. He has to lift up on his knees and reach over to grab the bottle, but he comes right back, settling his weight back onto Spencer's thighs. He takes a drink from the bottle -- they've long abandoned the shot glasses -- and then passes it over to Spencer. The mouth of the bottle is still wet when Spencer lifts it to his mouth.

Spencer takes a long pull, squeezing his eyes shut against the slight burn of it down his throat, and then passes the bottle back to Brendon. Brendon clears his throat.

"Um," he says. "Your turn?"

"Truth or dare," Spencer asks, more than a little bit aware that the room seems to have got about ten degrees hotter in the past five minutes.

Brendon swallows, and takes another swig of the tequila before passing it to Spencer again. "Truth," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Tell the person sitting opposite you if you've ever had --" Spencer stops. "We've had that one. Sorry. Pass me the box."

"Yes," Brendon says, cheeks red. "Yes, I've had a crush on the person sitting opposite me."

"We've al--wait, what?"

Brendon ducks his head. "Yes, I've had a crush on the person sitting opposite me," he says. He glances up at Spencer through his eyelashes.

Spencer's stomach flips like the bus has just gone around a huge turn, which of course it hasn't since they're speeding down the expressway. He stares at Brendon, who stares back defiantly.

"Seriously?" Spencer says. He wishes he was like Brendon and could just shrug that sort of thing off like it was nothing, but everyone in the world doesn't have a crush on Spencer, they have a crush on Brendon, and... Spencer has to shake his head to get his thoughts to stop pinging around like darts. The bus spins again. "Are you-- when? When did you--"

"Oh, you know," Brendon says, looking at a point somewhere to the right of Spencer's head. "For a while. On and off. Mostly on. Pretty much always on." He shrugs. "Forever, really. Are you drinking that tequila?"

Spencer hands the bottle back wordlessly. He has absolutely no idea what to even say to that, so he doesn't say anything.

"Next question?"

Spencer nods and fumbles for the box. "Truth or dare?"

Brendon clears his throat. "I already said truth."

"Right," Spencer says. "Right, okay." He pulls a card out. It reads _What are you afraid of?_

Spencer rubs his thumb over the card. His heart is thumping.

"What's it say?" Brendon says, taking another gulp of tequila. They're both going to be so fucked in the morning.

"What are you afraid of?" Spencer reads, showing Brendon the card.

"That's easy," Brendon says, looking Spencer straight in the eye. "Fucking you and me up. I'm fucking terrified of that."

Spencer's hand is still on Brendon's hip.

"Like...the band?"

Brendon grins drunkenly. "That's now how the game works. My turn, gimme."

Spencer hands the box over, fumbling for the bottle of tequila that Brendon passes him.

"Truth or dare?"

Spencer's heart is in a knot in the bottom of his throat. "Truth, I guess?"

Brendon pulls a card from the box. "What's the worst lie you've ever told?"

Spencer's face burns. "I told Ryan I wasn't in love with you," he says. He can't meet Brendon's eyes.

"When?" Brendon asks softly.

"When he asked," Spencer says. "Whenever he asked."

Brendon bends his neck and kisses the corner of Spencer's mouth, putting his hand to the back of Spencer's neck. The card is still in his hand, and the corner of it pokes Spencer under the ear.

"I would have lied too," he says when he pulls back. "If he'd ever asked."

Spencer can't breathe. His hand tightens on Brendon's hip, and his other hand curls its way into Brendon's hair. "He asked me all the fucking time," he tells Brendon. "He was so sure I'd fuck everything up."

"We did that all by ourselves," Brendon says. His gaze drops to Spencer's mouth. "You want more tequila?"

"Fuck, yeah," Spencer says. He feels way too sober for the secrets he's revealing, even though he knows he's drunk. If he was sober, he wouldn't be saying any of this shit. "You want another question?"

"Yeah," Brendon nods. "Give it to me."

 _If you could kiss a celebrity who is younger than you are, who would it be?_ Spencer rolls his eyes, and shows Brendon the card.

Brendon snorts and then makes a noise like a buzzer. "Do over," he says.

Spencer takes another drink and grabs another card. "Assuming every person has their price," he reads, "what is yours?"

Brendon laughs and then sobers abruptly. He tilts his head to one side the way he does when he's contemplating something. "That," he says, "is actually a good question. That is a question I'm probably too drunk to answer."

"Forfeit, then," Spencer says, and holds the bottle up to Brendon's mouth.

Brendon opens his mouth, and lets Spencer tip some of the tequila onto his tongue. It splashes down his chin, and Brendon grins, wiping his face with his hand. "Do I have to have a dare, now? Is that how it works?"

Something burns in Spencer's stomach, and it isn't the tequila. "Yeah," he says, and pulls out another card. "Remove your pants and go without them for the rest of the night."

Brendon grins again, and stands up, tugging off his pants, stumbling into the couch. That's the only sign that they're both really, really drunk. That, and he falls over trying to sit back down again, and ends up sprawled in Spencer's lap. Spencer keeps a tight hold of the tequila, and makes Brendon take an extra shot to make up for it. The tequila is everywhere; Spencer's chin is sticky and his hands are wet and if he thinks about it, he could probably go to the bathroom.

"Easy," Brendon proclaims, hands in the air. "I am pantsless. Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Spencer says, because he can't be bothered to move, and because he's half-hard. He doesn't want to take his pants off just yet.

"This is totally for girls," Brendon says, holding up the card. "Have you ever peed outdoors?"

Spencer laughs. "Only like, all the fucking time."

"Right?" Brendon says. "That one was stupid. Although I kind of have to piss right now, now I'm thinking about it."

Spencer flexes his fingers on Brendon's leg. "You should, uh. You should go do that, then."

Brendon shrugs and reaches for the cards. "Whatever," he says. "I can wait."

Spencer can't help the place his brain goes. It is not his fault he has some weird shit going on in his brain and that if he lets himself, he finds peeing really hot. His fingers tighten on Brendon's hip.

"You ask me," Brendon prompts, but there's a flush across his cheekbones.

"Truth or dare?" Spencer asks, but he can barely think. His brain keeps thinking _he needs to go but he's waiting, he needs to pee right now._ His brain is a fucking traitor. He swigs the tequila. He's going to be so fucking sick in the morning.

"Truth," Brendon says, and he steals the tequila, splashing it on his hand and Spencer's chest. Eyes dark, he leans in and licks a stripe up Spencer's chest.

Spencer's dick is hard within seconds, and Brendon can tell, Spencer knows. _Fuck._

Brendon watches him for a moment, and then leans in, and presses a kiss to Spencer's willing mouth. He tastes like tequila, and Spencer chases the taste, unable to help himself. His skin feels like it's on fire.

"That was a forfeit," Brendon tells him, which it wasn't, but whatever. He plucks a card from the pack. "I'm asking you." He doesn't ask whether Spencer wants truth or dare. Spencer doesn't care. "What is your wildest, most unadulterated fantasy, and who does it involve?"

"Forfeit," Spencer says automatically. He makes a grab for the bottle but Brendon leans back on Spencer's thighs and holds it out of reach.

"No," Brendon says. "No forfeit. Answer the question."

Spencer shakes his head, and tries to grab the bottle, but Brendon keeps it out of Spencer's reach.

"Tell me," Brendon says. His eyes are so fucking dark. He's also hard, and Spencer can't stop staring.

"It's embarrassing," Spencer says, still looking at Brendon's dick. Brendon's watching him watch.

"I don't care," Brendon says. It's like they're not talking about the other secrets they've revealed. There's just tequila, and this.

"i've never told anyone," Spencer says.

"That's why it's a secret, dumbass," Brendon says, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting.

"Uh," Spencer replies. He casts around for words, but he's seriously too fucking drunk to make something up right now. He grapples around for a fantasy that is sufficiently dirty enough to distract Brendon, but all he can think about is Brendon in his lap and the fact that Brendon's dick is hard, even though he has to piss. He thinks about how sometimes he waits and waits and waits until it hurts, and then he thinks about the intense relief when he finally lets himself go, and how sometimes he has to start jerking off even before he's done. "I seriously, B, seriously, I can't. It's like--yeah, no."

Brendon hums and shifts in Spencer's lap. Spencer has to bite down on his cheek to keep from wrapping his hands around Brendon's waist and grinding him down against his dick.

"You should tell me," Brendon says roughly. "You should really tell me.'

"I can't," Spencer says, because he can't. There aren't any words to describe the things inside of his head, the build up, the want, the pee.

Brendon runs his palm down Spencer's arm. "What's so shameful about it?" he asks, rocking a little so that his dick brushes Spencer's.

"I can't," Spencer says again.

Brendon strokes his arm. "You can," he says. "Come on."

Spencer shakes his head. "I forfeit."

Brendon leans in and presses his mouth to Spencer's forehead. "Close your eyes," he says.

Spencer can't help but do as he asks.

"Tell me now," Brendon says, and covers Spencer's mouth with his own.

Spencer groans up into Brendon's mouth and wraps his arms around Brendon's waist, pulling him in even tighter. The tequila bottle is forgotten somewhere on the floor, the deck of cards spilling messily out of their box. Spencer pushes his tongue against Brendon's, hardly able to breathe around the frantic pounding of his heart. He tries to speak, but he can't even figure out the words in his own head, much less give voice to them. He barely even understands what it is that he wants, only that he wants it.

Brendon kisses Spencer's cheek, pressing his tongue to Spencer's jaw. His hands are in Spencer's hair, and Spencer is so fucking drunk, and so out of control, and Brendon's dick is pressed against his. He can't help it.

"Tell me," Brendon says, cradling Spencer's face in his hand. He smells so strongly of tequila.

"It's -- it's pee," Spencer says, burning red. "I want to wet. And jerk off. And have people -- you -- let go on me."

"Fuck," Brendon says, and catches Spencer's bottom lip with his teeth before kissing him again.

"That's so fucking dirty, Spence," Brendon says, kissing him over and over. The pretence at the game is gone, and Brendon just keeps on kissing him, rocking his hips down against Spencer's, hands everywhere.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps, shoving his hands into Brendon's hair and tilting his head so that he can bite at his jaw. He's so fucking turned on right now, between the tequila and the making out and Brendon in his lap, and below that there's a thread of relief so strong that Spencer can't even control the way he's practically attacking Brendon. Brendon isn't freaking out and he isn't pushing him away and Spencer is so fucking hard.

"How would you want it?" Brendon says. "If it were me, how would you want me?"

"Like you are now," Spencer says, and he's drunk and turned on and Brendon is _in his lap_ , and he can't stop. It's out there now, and he never thought he'd be able to tell anyone. "In my lap. That's what I want. Like this."

"Then what," Brendon says, biting at Spencer's jaw in turn. "Tell me what happens next."

"You'd--" Spencer has to bury his face in Brendon's neck. He's so embarrassed and so turned on and completely out of control. "You'd just--let go. You'd piss on me. All over me, god, _Brendon._ "

"Fuck," Brendon says. "Through my clothes? Through yours?"

"Yes," Spencer groans, and he slides his hands under Brendon's shirt, pushing it up. "Fuck, yes."

"Let me," Brendon says, mouth pressed to Spencer's ear. "Let me. Now. Let me do that."

"I--" Spencer doesn't know what to say. They're on the bus, they can't do laundry for two more days, and Zack will actually kill them if they get piss all over the carpet. "I don't--"

"Spence," Brendon murmurs. "Let me."

Spencer's too drunk to figure out the right thing to do. His head is spinning and he's so turned on. He grabs his raincoat from the seat, thankful - for the first time - that it had done nothing but rain for three days. "Move," he says, and he awkwardly shoves the raincoat under his thighs, Brendon kissing him the whole time.

"Here," Brendon says, grabbing the tequila. "Let's finish this."

Spencer gets stuck halfway into getting the coat under his legs, mesmerized by the bob of Brendon's throat as he swallows the tequila. He has to lean up and lick up one of the trails that are spilling out of Brendon's mouth and down his neck.

"Yeah," Brendon says when he finishes it and drops the bottle to the floor. "Yeah?"

Spencer's hands are shaking. He can't believe he's this close to getting this thing that he's always wanted and had resigned himself to never having. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, please."

Brendon leans in and licks a stripe up Spencer's cheek. "I'm so drunk," he says, but it doesn't stop him sliding a kiss across Spencer's willing lips. "So fucking drunk and so fucking desperate, you have no idea."

Spencer can't even fucking breathe.

"Brendon --" he manages, hands on his back, under his shirt.

"I need to go," Brendon tells him, touching him everywhere, biting his jaw, licking his cheek. "I've needed to go for, like, ever. I just didn't want to get up."

"Fuck," Spencer says, which is more coherent than he expected.

"I'm really, really fucking desperate," Brendon whispers, into his ear. He's rocking down onto Spencer's dick, and Spencer's had fantasies that started like this, but they hadn't been as drunken or as real or as tequila-scented as this. He's going to fucking come.

"I'm--" he says, because he figures he ought to say something, but that's as far as he gets before he feels the first wet rush of Brendon's piss, soaking through Brendon's jeans and into Spencer's shirt.

"Fuck," Brendon groans. He bites down on Spencer's bottom lip and rolls his hips down.

"Oh god, oh god," Spencer says, because this is happening, and it isn't inside his head, and he's drunk and Brendon's fucking peeing on him. It's warm and wet and Brendon is rocking his hips against Spencer's dick, and Spencer is going to come.

He can't help himself, he shoves his hand in between them, over Brendon's dick, and Brendon cries out, tipping his head back and rocking up into Spencer's hand.

"Holy fuck," Brendon gasps. He presses into Spencer's hand, and he's _still fucking peeing._

Spencer can't even think, he can barely even breathe. There's just the warmth of Brendon's piss soaking through his pants and his shirt, the heavy weight of Brendon in his lap, the desperate, desperate want hooked just behind his ribs. He squeezes Brendon's dick through his pants and grinds up against him.

"Keep doing that," Brendon gasps out. His hands are on Spencer's shoulders, and he tilts forward, pressing his face into the curve of Spencer's neck. "Fuck, Spence. This is so hot."  
A broken laugh tears out of Spencer's throat because yeah, he knows, even though he can't quite believe it's happening. He's imagined this a thousand times over, tucked away in his bunk with his pillow over his face, and now it's happening and it's happening with _Brendon_. Spencer groans and pushes his hips up, up, up.

"Fuck," he gasps. "I'm gonna come, oh fuck."

Brendon shoves a hand between them and covers Spencer's warm, wet one with his own, pressing them hard to his dick. "Me too," he says, grinding down against their hands and Spencer's dick. Spencer can't breathe.

"Going to come, going to --" Spencer's voice breaks, and he starts to come, desperate and rocking.

Spencer doesn't know if it's the tequila or if it's because he's finally getting what he resigned himself to never having, or if maybe it's just Brendon, but it feels like he comes for-fucking-ever. It pulses through his body in waves, dragging him down and yanking all the air out of his lungs. He doesn't even know what Brendon's doing, can't tell if he's still peeing or if he's coming, but either way he's gasping raggedly into Spencer's neck, one hand twisted in the back of Spencer's shirt. He clings and pushes Spencer's hand against his dick.

"Fuck, fuck," Brendon gasps, shoving Spencer's hand even harder against his dick. "Feels like --" he groans. "Keep doing that, fuck. Feels so good."

Spencer feels like he's coming apart at the seams, like the only thing keeping him together is Brendon in his lap. His pants are wet through and his underwear is sticking to him, and this is like every secret fantasy he's ever had, only _better._

Brendon's rubbing down against his hand, against _their_ hands, and Spencer is half amazed that he's even taking this in, because this is Brendon on the edge, close to orgasm, and they're both wet through and all Spencer can think is _more. More._

It's suddenly vitally important that Brendon comes. It's the only tangible thought in Spencer's head. He needs Brendon to come--he needs Brendon to feel as good as he does.

"Come on," he says, pressing the words into the shell of Brendon's ear. "Come on, come on, please, please, come on me." He's begging and he can't even care.

Brendon is panting, hot and desperate, but he manages to push Spencer's hand away so that he can tug down his fly and push his wet underwear down over his cock, and then his cock is in Spencer's hand and Brendon is crying out as he comes, head tipped back.

Spencer watches him for a second, for two, stunned into inactivity, and then he leans in and scraps his teeth right on the pulse of Brendon's throat, just so that he can feel the noises spilling out of Brendon's mouth.  
Brendon whines, so Spencer bites down harder. It's amazing. Everything is wet and hot and yet he can't pull away; he wraps his hands around Brendon's biceps just to try and steady himself. He can't.

"Oh my god," Brendon says, and he sags against Spencer, dead weight all of a sudden. His hand is stuck awkwardly between their bodies and Spencer is so, so dizzy. He slides his arms around Brendon's back and hangs on breathlessly.

"So," Spencer says, after a minute when neither of them have moved and Spencer's heart is still beating hard and fast. "That was weird."

"Fuck," Brendon says, and doesn't move.

If he was sober, this would be approximately the point at which Spencer would freak the fuck out. As it is, all he can do is lean against Brendon and try to catch his breath. His wet clothes are starting to cool against his skin and while it's not the most awesome thing he's ever felt, he can't even bring himself to care. He's drunk and soaking wet and completely fucked out, and he still can't quite believe that just happened.

"Fuck," Brendon says again. "What the fuck are we going to do with our clothes?"

Spencer shrugs. "Hide them until we get someplace we can do laundry. Trash them if they start to smell too bad."

Brendon hides his face in Spencer's neck. "I like these clothes."

"I like them too," Spencer says, and then he does what he's been wanting to do for the last forever, he cups Brendon's face in his and kisses him, hard and fast. Like he means it. He does mean it. He's just not so sure he'll admit that in the morning. He's not so sure Brendon will, either. In the meantime he kisses him, and Brendon kisses him back.


End file.
